


An Infinitely Gentle, Infinitely Suffering Thing

by for_autumn_i_am



Category: Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Cannoli Kylux, Collars, Hound Hux, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Jealousy, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-TLJ, Power Couple, Praise Kink, Sex Toys, Supreme Leader Kylo, accidentally catching feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-15 15:26:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13034058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/for_autumn_i_am/pseuds/for_autumn_i_am
Summary: It was nice, ruling together. It worked. Hux was not a mere co-commander, but a whole kriffing shadow cabinet.Useful.At times, appreciated.





	An Infinitely Gentle, Infinitely Suffering Thing

**Author's Note:**

> The term cannoli!Kylux was coined by [obsessions-and-dreams](http://obsessions-and-dreams.tumblr.com/post/146710616735/i-love-soft-kylux-and-i-love-classical-hard%20), referring to the kind of dynamics which is hard on the outside but soft on the inside.  
> Please refer to the end notes for **content warnings**  
>  The fic **contains spoilers** for TLJ

The music was, frankly, ghastly. It filled the echoing stone halls of the stronghold, bouncing off the stark statues, bizarrely energetic and pompous. It didn’t fit Vader’s castle, this brutal tower emerging from the flowing lava of Mustafar: Hux would’ve preferred heavy drums and mystical hums, but the string quartet Ren had invited had other ideas. Supposedly, they were crème de la crème virtuosi from Naboo. Like everything else the New Republic had to offer, their performance was bombastically banal and lacklustre.

He couldn’t voice his opinion out loud: Supreme Leader Ren was throwing a banquet for delegates from Burnin Konn, Candovant, Abednedo, and Commenor, whole worlds ready to submit to the First Order. The banquet was Hux’s suggestion: a nice social function to show a flattering picture.

The idea was good. The execution, less so. Everything was promising: how the droids scurrying around had to keep refilling glasses, how the chatter burst into laughs or dropped into intimate whispers, how people watched Ren, wide-eyed and pale with excitement. The problem was with Hux himself. He tried his best: he had his dress uniform on, complete with an off-shoulder cape and brass buttons, and no one could tell that he was wearing a leather collar (and a plug, for that matter) — but he found himself incapable of small talk, bad at appropriately reacting to jokes, and even worse at smiling pleasantly.

Maybe that wasn’t what their precious visitors wanted of him, anyway. After all, he was nothing but an object of morbid fascination: Starkiller in the flesh. The project ultimately failed, but wiping out the entire Hosnian System _did_  send a message — and sent all these people, leaders and bankers and media moguls, swarming to the new Supreme Leader to swear their allegiance. They called Hux his Hound. Others, his little bitch. The life-expectancy of the latter was significantly shorter.  

Hux downed his third glass of champagne. He didn’t even like the taste. He frowned and looked around the room, feeling like a cadet on sentry duty. The dance floor was teeming: Ren in the middle, graceful steps and flowing cape, waltzing with a twi’lek prince who was using his hips way too much. It was utterly inappropriate. Ren held his composure: he was regal and brooding and oddly charming. People liked that about him. They liked that he was young and handsome, dark and dangerous, never recognising it for the trap that it was.

The twi’lek seemed to like it more than he should have: at this point he was visibly feeling the muscles of Ren’s broad back. Hux grit his teeth. It was not his place to intervene; the diplomatic consequences would be catastrophic. Tackling that kriffing xeno to the ground and blasting his bloody head off would be as tactless as it would be pointless. And yet.

“Here,” a man said, exchanging Hux’s empty glass for one filled with a thick pink liquid. Hux scowled at it, then looked up at the stranger. He had to crane his neck to meet his eyes; he was unusually tall, white-haired with a prominent nose, the perfect picture of a silver fox.

“What’s this?” Hux asked, icy. The man flicked at the glass, making it clink sharply.

“A little something to cheer you up.”

Hux scoffed. “Do I look so miserable that you think I’d welcome poison from a stranger?”

“Jouren Airhart,” the man said, extending a hand.

 _Ah._  A shareholder of Kuat-Entralla Engineering, the manufacturing company that made the Resurgent-class battlecruisers for the First Order. Hux was indebted to them, literally and figuratively. He took Airhart’s hand.

“Charmed.”

“See? Now we’re not strangers,” Airhart said, his tone bordering on the flirtatiously patronising. Hux handed the drink back. Airhart interpreted it to be a challenge and took a gulp.  

Hux had to think of a topic. He told himself it was just like leading an offensive. Objective: engage Airhart in conversation for a good five minutes. Mention shortage of funds. Sound convincing. Make a vague promise.

As he considered his options, his eyes found Ren. He bowed to the twi’lek, thanking him for the dance. Hux’s lips twisted.

“He’s something to behold, isn’t he?” Airhart said lightly. Hux didn’t miss how his grip tightened around the stem of the crystal glass. Ren was putting everybody on edge just by being present. The idiots thought this was what excitement felt like, but it was something else; bigger and far more sinister.

“He certainly is.”

A flourish: the next dance was about to begin. A chiss latched onto Ren. Kriffing typical. Hux hardly noticed the hand offered to him, and then looked at Airhart like he had grown a third limb.

“May I have the pleasure?” Airhart whispered.

“What is your angle here?” Hux asked, aiming for jesting but sounding shrill. “Are you trying to get me drunk, get me poisoned, or—” _Oh._ Get him laid. That was it. That’s what this was about.

Hux flattered himself with the fleeting idea that it was because of his accomplishments. Then Airhart said, “Trying to put a smile on those lovely lips.”

Great. Marvelous. Fantastic. So he was tragically pretty now, alone in a dancing hall, ignored by his lover-slash-leader. Hux knew there were rumours. Ren encouraged them.

“I have a bad back,” he forced out, “but thank you.”

He contemplated suggesting that maybe they could talk about star destroyers instead of dancing. Talking about star destroyers was always nice. None of this civilian banthashit. Straight to business. Or not so straight. But still.

“Your poor back,” Airhart said, and brushed his fingers over his spine. It happened in a blink. One second, an unrequited touch. The next, Airhart was on the ground, wheezing, and Hux realised he was holding him in a headlock; it was muscle memory from his training — instinct  kicked in.

He told himself it was nothing as he met Ren’s eyes, who stopped dancing — with him, the hall halted and the music died down. All that could be heard were Airhart’s pathetic, choked-off little noises.

“He tried to touch the property of the Supreme Leader,” Hux announced; and, in that moment, he knew it wasn’t just to save his skin — the best excuse was sometimes the truth.

* * *

 _Did I kriff up?_ he asked himself, pacing his chambers. It’d been so long since his last, albeit memorable kriff-up on Crait. Well. It had been ten standard months, and it had all been Ren’s fault anyway. The First Order lost, but the Resistance didn’t win. They were scattered around the galaxy, trying to spread their anarchic propaganda while planets surrendered to the Order one by one. The Order finally had a chance to rule the Core worlds. Unless he kriffed up. Causing a scene was the last thing they needed.

He dropped to his bed bodily and winced as the plug shifted inside him. The bed was made of volcanic rock; all the furniture was, and behind the floor-length windows was a world of fire. It was generous of Ren to give him his own chambers. It was also, paradoxically, petty. The rooms opened to Ren’s chambers: most nights, the door remained closed. Ren wanted Hux to be slicked up and ready, but seldom took advantage of it. Hux sometimes wondered whether Ren was punishing himself as well.

He ran his hands through the furs covering the stone bed. He felt homesick, suddenly and intensely, a raw longing tugging at his guts. _Go get cover, hide from shame_. But where was his place? Not here; not on the _Finalizer_ either, not even in his late quarters on Starkiller Base — he found himself missing Arkanis. An understandable sentiment. Arkanis wasn’t home, he hardly lived there: it was a _symbol_ of home, his only chance at patriotism. A once proud Imperial planet occupied by the New Republic and driven to ruin. More importantly: it was a watery world, matching Ren’s blaze. He used to think the elements were in his favour, that water would always clench fire. He forgot about evaporation.

He unbuttoned the neckband of his uniform, touching the leather collar. Without thinking, he slipped a finger underneath it, making it tighter. He liked the choking sounds Airhart had made; it was nice to listen to someone else gasping for breath.

He’d made Ren swear to him that the next time he used the Force to hurt him would be the last: he’d rather die than being bollocked in front of his officers ever again. Ren was surprised by the request, but quick to understand. He even looked ashamed. He never apologised, but Hux didn’t need him to. After their talk, Hux had found himself promoted to Grand Marshal; that was a good start of compensation.

His commlink chimed. Groaning, Hux reached for it and gave a dirty look at the too-bright screen.

> _I will see you in the throne room at 0100 - S.L. K. Ren_

“Oh,” Hux mouthed.

* * *

He was shivering in anticipation as he made his way through the vast corridors. If Ren was about to reprimand him, he was looking forward to a stimulating argument- it was always more exciting when Ren was actually right. The other option was even more thrilling. If he didn’t mess up colossally. If he was about to be rewarded. Which one was it?  

The visitors were gone. Cleaning droids scurried around, giving him way with polite chirrups. Hux checked his reflection on the shiny black wall, brushing his hair back. Part of the special agreement he and Ren had included a ban on pomade. It was unfair, but in turn Ren agreed to shave his balls, so at least they both got something they wanted.

Hux hoped he’d get a chance to get fully naked. To get his boots off, at least. He had on the socks Ren had given him when he was still _Kylo_ and hardly more than a renegade Jedi with teary eyes and trembling lips, wounded and sweet. Hux had fucking adored him. His darling little protégé. They’d known each other for four months, mostly spent on Hux showing him around and desperately trying to make him understand how a military organisation worked. Kylo had turned up by his door on the planet which was to be Starkiller and handed him a gift-wrapped bundle, chewing on his lips nervously as he watched Hux open it. It had contained a pair of non-regulation wool socks. Kylo had babbled something about the holidays, and how cold it got planetside, and how green matched Hux’s eyes. Hux had made fun of him: the winter solstice wasn’t celebrated by the First Order. Kylo had been both furious and mortified. Hux had shut his ranting up with a kiss. Their first and their last, for a while.

Snoke had taken Kylo away the next day. He’d given him that horrid helmet, and, Hux guessed, a strict reminder on celibacy. He’d made him something fearsome and horrible, and he’d made Hux hate him just as much as Ren grew to despise him: Hux was a temptation, a distraction, a weakness, a murderous opponent. What they had was never to be had again.

Snoke was gone, but their special relationship sometimes still felt like a dirty little secret. For all the depraved things they did to each other, there was a unique thrill in kissing. Ren seemed wary of it, as if he was afraid to taste poison on Hux’s lips, that he’d prove Snoke right after all this time.

The doors of the throne room slid open. For a moment, all Hux could see was an angry red glow in the darkness, a cascade of lava in the windowless room right behind the vicious silhouette of the stone throne. Ren was sitting there, eyes burning through the gloom. He was resting his chin on a gloved hand, deep in thought. Hux got on his knees immediately.

“Supreme Leader,” he said, bowing his head.

Ren was silent.

Let him be. Hux wouldn’t rise to his feet without permission, but he wouldn’t start excusing himself without hearing the complaints first. He was unmoving, only his nails biting into the flesh of his hands, digging deeper as long seconds passed. This was not the game Ren usually played.

“Did you mean it?” Ren asked, flippant, sharp. Angry. Good. Hux had learnt how to handle his anger.

“Did I mean what?” he asked, voice soft and low. He looked up at Ren unprompted. He knew Ren liked to see him like this, ready to comply, on his knees. He could use it to his advantage.

To be honest, he also liked Ren as he was now: just the two of them, no pretence, Ren allowing his frustration to show in the twitch of an eye, a frown of his brows. On the throne. Hux found that the position of Supreme Leader kept Ren contained. He was an unhinged warrior, but a surprisingly careful schemer. It was nice, ruling together. It worked. Hux was not a mere co-commander, but a whole kriffing shadow cabinet. _Useful._ At times, appreciated.   

“You choked that man,” Ren said; it felt like his deep voice sent vibrations through Hux, doing unspeakable things to the plug. Of course, that was not possible. It wasn’t his voice; it was the Force. “You choked that man and called yourself my property.”

The plug was definitely moving, slow, sluggish, throbbing. Ren always overdid everything. Hux was already half-hard when he entered and was only getting harder at the sight of Ren sitting with his long legs spread, idle fingers playing with fat lips. Manipulating the plug was almost unnecessary.

“Isn’t that what I am?” Hux asked. “Yours?”

“Nominally,” Ren said. “A part of your public image. And a private strategy. You’re counting on me getting fond. Attached, even. Careless. That’ll be your moment.”

Hux smiled at him patiently, fingers curling and uncurling. His legs had begun to tremble. The plug was shoved into him deeper. “Are you trying to fuck an honest answer out of me?” he asked, almost innocently. Ren frowned, but squirmed in his seat. Hux let his gaze drop to his crotch. _Gotcha,_ he thought.

“Stand,” Ren commanded. “Come closer.”

Hux got up and shuffled closer an inch, then stopped at parade rest. He enjoyed being insufferable.

“Don’t,” Ren growled, and raised his hand. Hux cocked a brow. Ren sighed. “May I?” he asked.

“You may,” Hux said with smug delight, and almost squeed when he felt the Force pull at him. It used to frighten him. Using it for earning pleasure, incorporating it into play, was the most delicious victory.

He sailed through the air to the throne, feeling bloody glorious, as if he descended from the ether just to grace Ren with his tiny ass. He took his rightful place over a powerful thigh, snug in Ren’s lap, feeling oddly protected. Ren was the worst thing that could happen to him: keeping him close and knowing _exactly_ what he was about to do was always a comfort.

Ren started unbuttoning his dress uniform swiftly, carelessly, making a face like he had a personal grudge against the buttons. He stopped halfway through, sneaking his big, warm left hand underneath the wool, feeling Hux’s chest as he grabbed the collar’s loop with his right. He pulled Hux closer, so close their noses nearly touched. Hux had never stopped loving that nose. Not even at the lowest point of their history.

“You say things,” Ren murmured, his thumb grazing over a perked nipple. “That’s one thing. That’s what you do. I never saw you take _action._ You nearly throttled him just because he touched you. Where did he touch you?”

“On my back,” Hux said, breathless, the collar biting into his skin. Oh, it was lovely.

“Would you advise punishment?”

“No, Ren — no, he’s kriffing _Jouren Airhart,_ we can’t—What? What do you plan to do to him?”

Ren grinned. It was downright manic. “What _did_ I do to him,” he corrected.

“Ren,” Hux groaned, wiggling. “Ren, you must treat our allies with—”

“Trust me. A demonstration of power was in order.” He squeezed Hux’s chest, and letting go of the collar he raised his hand to Hux’s nose. Hux was confused momentarily. Was he supposed to nuzzle it? Lick it? “Smell it,” Ren whispered.

Hux closed his eyes and compiled. Ozone and something metallic.  

“You—”

“I made them watch,” Ren said. “Now they know. I don’t like my things touched.”

“Ren,” Hux repeated with growing exasperation. Ren cupped his face, made him look at him.

“Say what I want to hear.”

“Praise be to your wisdom and incredible foresight, Supreme Leader,” Hux deadpanned. Ren leaned closer, whispering into Hux’s ear as he pinched his nipple, making him whimper.

“They all loved it. They almost creamed their pants. This is why they want to join us: because we’re stronger, not because we’re nicer. They came to see _this_ , not cute little concerts and tasteful flower arrangements and dances.”

“Don’t underestimate diplomacy and social pleasantries,” Hux said. “You can win a war with terror, you can win favours with terror, but you can’t _rule_ through it.”

“Watch me,” Ren breathed, pulling back. Hux scanned his face. He could live a million years and could never guess Ren’s end game. Maybe it should be enough that he had one, a grand master plan to turn the world upside down. Hux preferred order. Strategy. And sometimes, yes, blowing up planets.

“Those flower arrangements were really quite tasteful,” he said. “I overheard compliments.”

“You worked so hard,” Ren teased. “Did I ruin your perfectly planned night?”

“What matters is that we have results,” Hux said. “If they’re ready to sign the treaty, I’m happy.”

“Happy,” Ren repeated like it was some foreign word. “Do you enjoy working for me? Does it make you happy?”

“What’s gotten into you?” Hux asked, squirming impatiently. There was too much talk and not enough touching. Touching was easy. That was the whole point of this arrangement. Get rid of sexual frustration when it became distracting. Help out each other like good guys. Get back to the job.

Kylo kissed him. Just a peck on the lips. Hux’s whole body sang with it. “You displayed your loyalty,” Ren said in a whisper, his breath hot against Hux’s mouth. “I never took you to be even _capable_ of it. I thought I was misreading your thoughts. But you _are_ loyal — as long as it serves you; aren’t you? You deserve to be rewarded.”

Hux took his time with the answer, clenching around the plug involuntarily. He looked at Ren and said, “Yes, Supreme Leader.”

Ren kissed him again. Hux parted his lips, realising he was starving for it, the feel and taste of Ren’s tongue, his mouth. How fully he devoured.

Ren slid his hand out of Hux’s half-opened uniform jacket and caressed his back, wiping off the careless touch of the late Airhart. Hux moaned into their kiss, riled up and _owned._

“Are you ready for me?” Ren asked, licking at his lips. “Are you ready for my cock?”

“When am I not?” Hux asked back. They reached for the clasps of his pants at the same time, racing to get it undone while the Force worked on his jacket. It was as ridiculous as it was arousing. Hux fumbled for his boots.

“Leave them on,” Ren said. It wasn’t an unusual request, but Hux felt that Ren somehow knew about his little jab with the socks, and didn’t want to see a sentimental reminder of who he used to be: that naïve boy ripe for ruin. It would’ve been nice to get the upper hand for a moment, but Hux didn’t mind terribly that he had to miss a chance. There would be a thousand more. Although it was undoubtedly entertaining to watch Ren get jealous of his former self; Hux liked him and was terribly attracted to him, but somehow his heart was still with Kylo, and Ren knew.

He yanked Hux’s briefs down, letting them pool around his ankles along with his pants. The jacket was tossed to the floor. Ren has always been fascinated by Hux’s torso, pale and soft and lean, _puny,_ something ought to be despised by a wreck like Ren. He suckled on his nipples, one and then the other as Hux twisted in his lap; he couldn’t spread his legs properly from the bundle of cloth trapping him, so he had to sit sideways and allow Ren to support his weight. It made him feel younger, cherished. He was glad he couldn’t see himself from the outside. He didn’t know if he’d laugh or cry.

Ren reached down, grabbing the base of the plug. He tugged; it popped free with an embarrassing sound, and Hux felt the warm lube trickle down his thighs. Ren set the plug aside. Its gold surface glinted in the dark.

Ren undid his own pants with a methodical disattachment. Hux would’ve liked him to make a show of it — it was such a grand reveal, all that mean muscle, that big, fat cock begging to be worshipped. Too bad Ren wasn’t really connected to his body: it was merely a vessel for the Force, but he _also_ used it to fight and to fuck when it suited him. Hux sometimes hated Skywalker and Snoke for making Ren like this. Without mysticism, he could’ve been free.

Ren manhandled Hux to his liking, hooking an arm under his knees and pressing him to his chest. Hux stared into the darkness of the throne room as he braced himself for Ren’s cock. He touched the collar, just because he wanted to hold onto something.

“Beg,” Ren commanded.

“Please,” Hux said with sincere desperation, throat dry and arse soaking wet. “Please, Supreme Leader, I need your cock, please.”   

He felt the tip press against his entrance and moaned, tugging at the collar. Shite, it was nice. It was also unusual. They both appreciated efficiency: their fucks were usually quick and to the point, with some kinky whatnot thrown in for good measure.

“Please?” he tried again.

“Why do you want it?” Ren asked. His nose probed the collar, then he bit down on it and tugged with his teeth.

“I want to be filled,” Hux said, choked-off. His cock ached. It’d been neglected lately. They’ve both been busy.

“If that’s all you want, I can give you your little plug back,” Ren said, releasing the collar. “Fill you up real nice with it. Watch you walk all stiff. People think it’s good posture. That’s what they thought today.” He rubbed his cock over Hux’s perineum; the head caught in his rim briefly, making Hux writhe.

“I need your cock,” he panted. “Please.”

“But you do have my cock at your disposal,” Ren said.  “A nice replica for long, lonely night cycles. I hope you’re treating it well.”

Hux groaned. That gift was...insulting, and he fucking loved it. One of the most satisfying pieces in his collection. That was saying something. Ren fucked him with it once, and he cherished the memory. Kept returning to it on those lonely nights all right.

“I need you,” he snapped. “You told me I was to be rewarded, you told me—”

“Shh,” Ren whispered, his cock finally digging into Hux. It was infuriating. Hux growled and kicked out, frustrated, exposed, blissed.  Ren was grinding into him deep, all at once, making Hux fight for breath as his eyes rounded. He wasn’t ashamed of the mewl that escaped from his throat. He was thirty-five. He was easily overwhelmed by Ren’s youthful stamina.

Ren started rutting in and out with sharp little jabs, making Hux bounce on his cock. His left arm was still hooked under Hux’s knees, but his right hand had found its place over his throat. He didn’t press down. He wouldn’t without explicit permission. That was the most arousing thing in it. That, and how well Hux’s jugular fit between his index finger and his thumb.

Ren hardly needed to push. He just sat on his throne with spread legs, moving Hux on his cock the way he liked. The Force was possibly involved. At this point, Hux couldn’t tell. He was too focused on not coming instantly, making it last, making it count. He was probably red in the face and not too good of a fuck, missing the rhythm and clenching erratically.

“You feel like home,” Ren told him.

Hux blinked in confusion. “Where did you _live_?” he blurted out, offended by the silliness of what Ren said — he should just shut his mouth and fuck him raw, that’s what it was about. That, and the reward part. The reward part was important.

“If I could open up your chest I’d live there,” Ren said. Now he was being downright terrifying.

“Okay,” Hux said thinly.

“Crawl inside and—”

“Could you—maybe not…?”

“It’s safe like this,” Ren went on, rocking into him. He filled him out so completely Hux sometimes thought he could feel him from the outside if he pressed his hand to his stomach. “It’s safe with you here; you won’t go anywhere, you won’t go to betray me—”

“Haven’t we just established my opportunistic loyalty?” Hux said. Ren chuckled, deeply; hearing him laughing was always a bit unsettling. It wouldn’t last long. It would be devoid of joy. A few years ago he had to be reprimanded for laughing on duty. And now. Now.

“I should keep you on my cock always,” Ren said.

“We’d both die.”

“A nice way to go.”

Hux considered it. “Well. Arguably. Yes.”

“Maybe that’s your plan,” Ren muttered, almost to himself. He buried his face into Hux’s neck, breathing in his scent. He probably smelt of regulation aftershave. He never knew why Ren found it arousing. “My cunning Grand Marshal Hux,” Ren said. “My right hand.”

“Me and your right hand have a lot in common,” Hux admitted. He was bad at taking compliments. He still craved them. The angle inside of him shifted, making him gasp wetly.

“I prefer you,” Ren said. “Look at you, you fit me so well. Warm and soft and tight. _Still_ tight. Look how my dick splits your ass. I said _look,_ Grand Marshal.”

Hux peered down, his jumping cock momentarily catching his attention. He was uncomfortably hard, the head smearing precome over his belly every time it hit it. And below that, Ren’s monstorous cock disappearing into his arse. He moaned like a proper slut as he watched Ren bottom out.

“That’s right,” Ren said. “You can take it all. You can take it all because you’re special and you worked hard for it. I told you to be prepared and you are; you’re good at following orders. Can you feel it deep inside? I’m gonna fill you up with my cum. To the brink, until it’s dripping out. You love that, huh? When you’re wet and sticky. Well-used. Swimming with it.”   

Hux squeezed his eyes shut, face contorting with pleasure. He didn’t have a particularly pretty O-face. He was close, but not quite there yet. Grasping his cock was like admitting defeat; he couldn’t hold out any longer, he couldn’t wait.

“I love your hands,” Ren said, matter-of-fact and strangely earnest. Hux came with a sharp scream, back arching as Ren went on calmly, “You have beautiful hands.”

Hux collapsed, trembling. Ren was holding him, rocking into him ceaselessly. He touched Hux’s spent cock with his free hand, curiously, smearing his come over his trembling stomach.

“Delicate,” he said.

Hux had no idea what it was all about, head swimming and heart beating rapidly. The only thing he could understand was Ren’s dick inside him. His release. Ren grunted, and pulled Hux closer, keeping him pinned on his cock.

Hux craned his neck to kiss him. Ren didn’t kiss back, but allowed Hux to lap at his lips messily, kiss his jaw, his chin. Hux needed to taste him before Ren slid free and sent him to take the walk of shame. They never did it twice in the same night; that was one of the rules.

All Hux wanted was to curl up and sleep. Maybe that would work. Maybe Ren wouldn’t want to wake him up and would let him stay. Didn’t he say he wanted him to stay? _Dirty talk,_ his mind supplied as the haze slowly lifted. He needed to get up before Ren pushed him off. He needed a sonic. He needed to come up with a plan, should Ren’s irresponsible actions backfire. That had become pretty much his job description. He wasn’t looking forward to cleaning up the mess after a public execution. 

Ren pulled out slowly. So this was it. Hux closed his eyes to compose himself, then his eyes flew open as he felt two fingers sliding in. Ren was fucking his come back into him.

“Oh?” Hux said, high-pitched, then cleared his throat. Wriggled a bit. Ren kept fingering him. “Ren, if you’re quite finished—”

“I want to plug you up with my come,” Ren said, sounding oddly far-off. “Would you like that?”

“It’s not exactly hygienic,” Hux said, then immediately after, “yes.”

Ren hummed. Hux was sensitive and sore, but Ren’s touch still felt nice. Maybe his orgasm made him silly, but he liked the idea of being entrusted with the safekeeping of Ren’s seed. It sounded horrible but somewhat noble. Like some grand task. Ren wiped the plug and put it back inside him. There was a beat. He pulled up Hux’s briefs for him, then his pants. He almost touched the clasps with his sticky fingers, but Hux smacked at his hand. They both froze for a moment.

“Thank you,” Hux said. “I’ve got this.”

With his face burning, he refastened the clasps. Ren fetched his uniform jacket with the Force, and held it out for him. It was pronouncedly awkward to shimmy into it. Ren didn’t try to help him button up, but held his shoulders. The cape was the last touch; then Hux was undeniably done.

“Good night,” he said. Ren didn’t respond. Hux got to his feet. He wasn’t facing Ren, but he saw him tucking himself away from the corner of his eyes. Alone on his big throne. Alone in a dark room.

The doors slid shut behind Hux with a hiss.

He stopped, and put his hand over his mouth. Blinked a few times. He wasn’t sure what had happened. He felt like a sob was about to escape him, but then it didn’t.

“Right,” he muttered, then repeated, “Right.”

He put his chin up, and walked away.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Content warnings** : a man flirts with an unintrested Hux and touches his back without permission / aforementioned man gets executed (not detailed) / there is _no_ non-consensual chocking or kinky Force usage, however, Hux does wear a collar, Ren puts his hand on his neck, and the Force is involved - all in good fun / their dynamics is a bit fucked up though what's new
> 
> The title is from T.S. Eliot's Preludes
> 
> Thanks for the super fast beta reading to [bioticnerfherder!](http://archiveofourown.org/users/bioticnerfherder)
> 
> Find me on tumblr: [@longstoryshortikilledhim](http://longstoryshortikilledhim.tumblr.com)


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